


a foolish heart

by jehoney



Category: A Midsummer Night's Dream - All Media Types
Genre: 2016 Globe Production, Character Study, DEMETRIUS IS AN ANGSTY QUEER, Fluff and Angst, Helenus - Freeform, Internalized Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Male Helena, Minor Violence, POV Second Person, Relationship Study, helenus owns my heart, queer shakespeare, this is super bittersweet, this production was the best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7787482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehoney/pseuds/jehoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you'd take every blow he gave you like a gift, and contrary to outside appearances, were completely conscious of your own patheticness, but at least him bruising you meant that you weren't too disgusting to be touched."</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>A little musing on the Globe's 2016 modern dress, Hoxton based production, where Helena became Helenus, and Demetrius' rejection became a tragic case of socially imposed internal homophobia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a foolish heart

**Author's Note:**

> this is just me doing some musing on helenus - and how the gender change in this production changed the dynamic of both the relationship and demetrius as well. if you want to know more about the production check it out here - http://www.shakespearesglobe.com/theatre/whats-on/globe-theatre/a-midsummer-nights-dream-2016   
> it's only showing until september but there will almost definitely be a dvd, and any deliberate queering of shakespeare gets me hyped !! so - enjoy this bittersweet angsty mess

When he kisses you, it feels like your heart is about to drop through your stomach.

_(When he closed his grip around your jaw and threw you to the ground, the contact drove a chill up your spine.)_

When his hands fist in the back of your shirt, the tips of your fingers are on fire.

_(When he kicked you in the chest, you held the bruise as a sick badge of possession.)_

You remember the first time he said he loved you; more realisation than declaration, and now the memory is tinged with foresight: of him pushing you to the ground, (an action which hurt a great deal less than the venom of his denial.)

And the way he'd take your hand, an action never to be discussed, and always to be initiated by him (at least when he was sober). How he'd only kiss you when you were alone, or with Hermia or Lysander - you were all a familiar quartet of tangled strings and affections, within which he finally felt secure enough to hold you. Or how you had to pretend to not know him in front of his family, and later, when he was so convincing in his apathy that you actually wondered if he had forgotten your name - or whether that night and those moments were real.

When you'd take every blow he gave you like a gift, and contrary to outside appearances, were completely conscious of your own patheticness, but at least him bruising you meant that you weren't too disgusting to be touched.

* * *

How he stands in front of you now, a look in his eyes that makes you feel like the sun in his solar system.

And you're still trying to turn over last night in your head (how you stole your best friend's boyfriend from her and watched him fight your ex for your love) but in the light of day you start to believe that maybe Demetrius is letting you in. (Because despite you telling him to stop, every other word he whispers in your ear is an apology.)

Hermia is visible over his shoulder, beaming with all of her radiance and glowing in white, and you remember her telling you, last week, to let him go, that he wasn't worth it. But she couldn't know what that level of self-loathing feels like - a social flagellation (that you yourself experienced when you were 12 and confused about why you wanted to kiss Troy Bolton instead of Gabriella). You were fortunate, you tell yourself, to experience that sooner, unlike Demetrius.

But now he stands before you, holding your hand like it's the only thing keeping him tethered, and there's nothing else you want to do but smile straight back at him, and when he brushes your hair back, blush and marvel at how 24 hours can turn violent denial into such tenderness.

"A foolish heart that I leave here behind."

You smile at how apt the words you spoke last night prove.

You are foolish, hopeless, and utterly devoted. But, as he slips the ring onto your finger, you think maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.


End file.
